Chapter 27- She's Like The Swallow
Erik wasn't sure how Christine would react to this. To his great surprise, however, she walked up to him and wrapped her arms round his waist.
"The important thing is that you didn't." She whispered. "...You didn't kill, just like you promised."
Erik felt a slight twinge of guilt about Massort.
But if I didn't kill him then he would have killed Christine... He wondered if he should tell her about this... but thought better of it What she didn't know couldn't hurt her.
They stood there for a few moments, holding each other, neither feeling the need to speak. When they finally let go of each other, Erik spoke.
"What was it you were saying about Zurie earlier?" The thought that he was somehow related to the young ballet girl intrigued him.
"Oh... Catherine is her step mother." Replied Christine. She was glad that Erik seemed to be back to his usual self.
So he wasn't properly related to her, only by marriage.
Never the less, I can find out how she came to be with this 'Ivan'.
Christine gave a huge yawn. It seemed like days rather than hours since the performance of Faust. Erik smiled down at her.
"Tired my love?" Christine looked up at him with a very sleepy expression.
"Sort of..." She gave another yawn. "...from the performance and everything." Erik felt yet another twinge of guilt.
Erik did not exactly feel tired but thought that it was best to sleep. Maybe sleeping on the situation would help somewhat. They both went to bed. Christine seemed to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow but Erik stayed awake thinking...
You had better know what you're doing, Erik...
-
Firmin and André were in their office, both looking very tired, and very hung over.
"We better start looking for a new opera..." Croaked André, rubbing his eyes.
"Oh, god, do we have to? Can't we wait a while..." Replied Firmin in a very hoarse whisper, a glass of water clutched in his right hand, which he took a sip from with what appeared to be great difficulty.
"I suppose we could." André looked over at Firmin with very bloodshot eyes. "God I feel terrible... And we didn't even have that much... What was the date on that wine?"
Firmin picked up one of the empty bottles. "1810." André gave a loud groan. That would explain why it didn't take much to get them hung over
There was then a knock on the door. The two managers tried to compose themselves and look as though everything was normal. The door opened, and Ivan Beaumont walked in.
"Good morning." He said in a very jolly voice. André was surprised at how healthy he looked considering the amount of wine that he had drunk the previous night.
"Oh please don't shout..." Came Firmin's voice. Then he began to rub his head, and he tried to take another sip of his drink. Ivan looked a bit concerned at this and then pulled out a bottle from his inside coat pocket.
"Here, drink this, you'll feel better." Without question Firmin drank from the bottle. The effect was almost immediate. His head felt much clearer and then he handed the bottle over to André, who nearly downed the rest of it in a matter of swallows. They both turned to face Ivan.
"Thank you Monsieur... far too much wine." Firmin started to busy himself with a load of papers and documents on his desk. "What time is it?"
Ivan squinted down at his watch. "It is a quarter past nine Monsieur Firmin" He replied once again in a very jolly voice.
"Very good..." André chimed and then he looked around the room, as if finally noticing something. "... where is Catherine my dear Ivan?"
"Oh, she's gone to explore more of the Opera house. She is very curious... like a cat." Both Firmin and André chuckled at this.
"I don't suppose you could think of an opera we could put on for our next production. Could you Ivan?" Asked Firmin.
Ivan looked a bit shocked at this question. As though he thought that Firmin must still be a bit hung over.
"Isn't it a little early to be thinking about such matters Monsieur Firmin?" It was after all, only the morning after the first performance of Faust, so they must have loads of time before they need to start rehearsals for another production.
"It's never too early. It would be much better to decide know now so that we don't have to think about it later." Ivan could just about see the logic in his thinking, but still thought that it was unnecessary to think about it at the moment. Taking your time over a decision was always better than rushing into a decision in his opinion.
-
Catherine was in the main theatre, watching the set of Faust being tidied up for the next performance. She had enjoyed the production very much, but could not help thinking about what had been discussed the previous night, about 'The Phantom of the Opera'.
Probably some raving lunatic who has nothing better to do with his life. She thought. After all, you always did get the occasional mad-man wherever you went, and she did not think that this one would be any different from any other.
Getting bored of watching the stage managers, she left to explore the opera house some more. It was a very big place, much bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside. Several times she got lost and had to ask people like the cleaners for directions, which didn't usually help, as they gave very long instructions on where to go, which confused Catherine even more and usually resulted in her getting even more thoroughly lost than she had been previously.
After asking yet another person who seemed to be a ballet girl, for directions, she decided to give up all hope of finding her way for the moment and decided to just wander aimlessly in the hope that she would end up somewhere that she recognised.
After wandering around for about half an hour, she came to a door marked 'rooftop', that seemed like an interesting place to go. She opened the door, feeling surprised that it wasn't locked, and headed up the stairs. They went on for much further than she expected but finally she reached the top. Opening the door, she walked out into the brilliant morning sunshine.
She could see much of Paris from the rooftop. She had forgotten how very tall the building was. Then, something happened which took Catherine completely by surprise. She could hear the sound of a violin being played. The musician must have been very talented for the sound was very clean and clear. Catherine wasn't sure why, but the song sounded somewhat... familiar.
She looked round the rooftop for the source of the music but could not find it anywhere and still she had the feeling that she knew the song. The violin player never stopped. He continued to play this mystifying music. Then, the violinist started to sing and Catherine knew at once where she had heard the song before...
-
Catherine had been very secretive over the past few months towards her lover, Pierrick. She could not even begin to try and explain to him that she was pregnant. If he ever found out then he would leave her for sure. After all, it was a sin for two people to have a child of their own if they were not married.
"My love...?" Began Pierrick. "...tell me what is wrong, my love?" He had been deeply concerned about her these past few months. He just wanted her to know that he cared.
"It is nothing my love, really..." She replied, though Pierrick could tell that she was lying. He could always tell.
"If you are sure sweetheart." He did not want to press the matter. If she did not want to tell him, then that was her choice, not his.
Catherine continued to look tearful, so Pierrick pulled her in close to him, and embraced her with a passionate kiss.
When they finally broke apart, Catherine rested her head on Pierrick's shoulder and closed her eyes. "Sing to me Pierrick.."
If it would cheer her up then anything was worth a try. He took a deep breath and began to sing softly.
She's like The Swallow that Flies so High
She's like the river that never runs dry.
She's like the sunshine on the lee shore,
She loves her love but she'll love no more.
Catherine smiled, and cuddled up closer to Pierrick.
It's out in the garden this fair maid did go,
A-plucking the beautiful prim-a-rose.
The more she plucked, the more she pulled,
Until she got her apron full.
The song seemed to ease Catherine somewhat, and Pierrick could tell that she was getting tired, and would soon drift off to sleep.
It's out of these roses she made a bed,
A stone, a pillow for her head,
She laid her down, no word she spoke,
Alas, for love, her heart was broke.
Catherine had drifted off to sleep but Pierrick still continued to sing...
She's like the swallow that flies so high,
She's like the river that never runs dry.
She's like the sunshine on the lee shore,
-
I love my love, and love is no more.
"STOP!" Catherine shouted, panicking. "STOP IT!" The violin did not stop. It continued to play. Catherine looked round wildly for the singer, but still he would not show himself.
Catherine sank to her knees in tears, the memory of Pierrick still haunting her. He was dead. He had died of a heart condition, and he wasn't coming back.
Erik smiled to himself. There was the proof. She was definitely his mother. He continued to play the violin, watching Catherine sob uncontrollably on the floor. "Pathetic." He whispered to himself.
You shouldn't have told me about that song, should you? My dear sweet mother. Shouldn't have sung me to sleep with it...
Then suddenly, Catherine got up, and bolted over to the door.
Oh no you don't. Thought Erik. As she drew near to it, it closed. She tried to open it, but it had somehow locked. You made my life hell. It's only fair now that I return the favour.
Catherine was breathing very heavily. "WHO ARE YOU?" She shouted. The violin continued to play and she looked around desperately. "WHERE ARE YOU?" She positively screamed so loudly that people down in the street were starting to wonder what was going on up on the roof of the Populaire.
The violin stopped, and Catherine could hear footsteps approaching her. She started to hyperventilate, looking madly in all directions for someone...anyone.
The sound of the footsteps died and there was silence for a few seconds...
"Here..." Erik whispered in her left ear. Catherine wheeled around, but saw no-one. Who could this person be? Or what could this thing be?
I must be going mad. She thought.
"As for who I am..." She wheeled around again, whoever this was, was like a ghost. "... I'll leave you to figure that one out yourself."
Catherine was shaking uncontrollably, extremely frightened, not knowing what to do. She couldn't run for it, the door was locked...
Suddenly, somebody seized her by the neck with one hand, and grabbed her right hand tightly with the other. She felt her fingers being prized open. Something was put in her hand and then her fingers were shut again tightly. Catherine winced in pain. Whatever it was, was very sharp and cutting into her hand.
Erik let go, and before Catherine could turn around to face him, he was gone. Her hand had started to bleed freely. Looking at it, she saw that clutched in her hand was a blood red rose. The violin started up again...
It's out in the garden this fair maid did go,
A-plucking the beautiful prim-a-rose.
The more she plucked, the more she pulled,
Until she got her apron full.
Then it stopped, and the door leading back to the Opera house opened.
"Go on..." began Erik. "... run. Call for help." Catherine did not hesitate. She ran over to the door and sprinted down the stairs as fast as she could. She did not have a clue where she was going but she didn't care. All she wanted to do was put as much distance between her and the roof as possible.
She stopped to catch her breath and then leant against the wall. "Catherine?" She jumped at the sound of the voice. Looking round however, she saw that it was one of the managers.
"Monsieur Firmin!" She cried. Firmin looked worried.
"What is wrong my dear?" Catherine did not answer immediately. But then Firmin spotted the rose still clutched in her right hand. "Where did you get that?" He asked sharply.
"...It doesn't matter." She replied, knowing full well that it did matter. Firmin walked over to her and seized her hand. His eyes widened at the sight of what was clutched in it.
"Come with me my dear..." He began. "...Ivan is in my office. There is something that both of you should know..."
With that, Firmin turned and walked in the direction of his office with Catherine close behind him, not wanting to be left alone.
-
"Zurie!" Zurie looked round to see Christine rushing up to her.
"Bonjour Miss Daae." She said merrily. Christine finally reached her.
"I just wanted to say congratulations about your parents becoming the patrons." This wasn't really why she had come to speak to her, but she couldn't just say 'tell me about your mother'.
"I know, isn't it wonderful? It's thanks to them that I was able to come and train to be a dancer here." She beamed widely, looking up at Christine.
"You are very lucky to have such kind parents." Christine said.
"Yes, I am grateful for it. When my real mother died, I thought my life was over but father kept his head up high..." Christine was listening intently. This was what she was hoping would happen.
"How did he meet Catherine?" She asked, hoping that it sounded like a throw away sort of question.
"Oh, that's a funny story..." She began. Christine thought that it would be anything but funny if it was about Erik's mother. "...they met out on the streets. Mother had been looking for a job, with no success, and walked straight into him..." Christine gave a false laugh. "...I'm not really sure what happened then. They don't talk about it much, but they have been together ever since..."
"Oh really?" Said Christine, looking at Zurie. "...What did your mother do before she met Ivan then?" Christine thought that she sounded a bit too suspicious here but Zurie didn't seem to notice anything. In fact, she looked stumped at the question.
"I... I don't know. She's never said. You'd have to ask her yourself." Christine could not say that she was surprised at the answer. After all, you wouldn't talk about your past if it involved giving your only child away to the circus.
"I will at some point." Christine said casually. "But I only really came here to congratulate you. I didn't mean to keep you from anything."
"Don't worry miss, I was not planning on doing anything anyway, with the performance over, there really isn't much to do at the moment." She looked slightly sad. "... I know we do complain about rehearsals but it is enjoyable really, otherwise why would we do it?"
"You are a very sweet girl Zurie..." Said Christine. "...I'll see you at dinner."
"Yes, see you then. Is there a lesson tonight?"
"Of course." She replied.
"Good, aur revoir Christine." She turned and left, leaving Christine standing there alone.
Christine then heard a faint tapping noise coming from her right. She looked round and saw nothing, but then spotted a note on the floor. She picked it up at once.
Christine.
It is definitely her, no doubt about it now. I'll see you after your lesson with Zurie
Erik.
So he had been listening. Christine didn't mind. It meant that he heard it straight from Zurie's mouth rather than Christine's.
-
"Ouch." Catherine winced as she had salt pressed into her hand.
"Sorry, but this will help it heal quicker." Apologised André. He then tied a bandage round her hand to cover up the cuts.
"What is this all about?" Boomed Ivan from the corner of the managers' office. He looked like he was about to explode in anger.
"Do you remember anything that was said last night?" Asked Firmin. "About the Opera Ghost."
"Yes..." Said Catherine quietly. "... You said that there was reason to believe that he did exist or something like that..."
"That's right." Said André, nodding. "How much do you know about him?"
Both Ivan and Catherine looked confused at this question.
"I'll take it that your silence means 'nothing'" Began Firmin. "... Well, nobody does know much about him, only that he can be extremely dangerous."
Catherine looked over at him. "Are you suggesting that it was this 'Ghost' who did this to me?" She held up her hand.
"Madame..." He looked very concerned. "... Joseph Bouquet, one of our former stage managers, used to spread rumours about the 'Phantom of the Opera' and then one day..." He paused, took a deep breath and then said. "... he was found dead with cuts to the wrists and throat, and the one thing that was found along with the body... was a rose."
Ivan gasped, but Catherine was intrigued by this revelation. "What were the rumours about?" She asked curiously, picking up a glass of water.
"Oh..." Said André. "... skin like parchment, no nose..." He then paused and looked as if he was considering something. "... and one thing that we are almost certain of is that he wears a white mask on one side of his face."
Catherine dropped the glass she was holding, which shattered on the floor.
"No..." She whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "It can't be..."
